Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

People rarely change. Sure, they might go through trials and tribulations in their lives, maybe learn a few things, get a little wiser. But at their core they are still that same person they always were.

Alphas are even worse. They are proud of that fact--their immobile, unwavering sense of superiority spurs them to abuse--hell, they think they’re entitled to it! They can take anything, control anything, use anything they want because it’s their natural given “right”. They have no need for things like respect and fairness. They bully their way through life, unashamed.

Turak Weigon is a prime example. His alpha status and elite breeding secured him for a role as one of the most powerful men in New York, and his buttoned up white-collar company is just a front for the real money-making. Danny Rand should know. He lost his best friend to that piece of scum. Omegas are treated as little more than personal property in even the best situations. To Weigon, they are a commodity. A currency.

Danny steadies his breath as he adjusts his gloves. It’s important that after tonight, not a trace of himself is left behind. Only what he wants the investigators to know--he’ll draw a dragon right on Weigon’s corpse if that’s what it takes. The symbol of his activist group, The Forgotten. Because that’s what omegas are. And a society that glamorizes the stereotypical “silent doting housewife” type among what’s considered “the weakest sex” only perpetuates the crimes committed against them.  

Danny shakes his head in an attempt to clear it; no more waxing poetic. After tonight, there will be one less trafficker in the world. That’s what he needs to focus on.

He stares down the long line of bodies laying strewn along the hallway. Not dead, just sleeping. Which means he only has a few minutes to complete his mission. Danny’s not a killer. In fact, he’s never killed before. He imagines it can’t be much more difficult than choking a guy out--you just hold on for longer. He’ll do the deed, slip out the window, shimmy down the fire escape and take no less than seventeen showers when he gets back home to wash the stench of death and Alpha off of him.

He’s debating the next move as he rounds the corner; what once was a hall filled with suited alphas and radio chatter and conversations about the hot little desk-omega on floor 78K now lays deathly silent. He dashes forward, careful not to trip over the prone form of a guard as he eyes the door at the end of the hall. To the right is a red sign with an image of stairs. Danny’s heartbeat pounds in his ears.

The next sound comes about halfway to his destination--the distinct “clink” of a weapon dangling from a belt. Danny whips around just in time to see a massive shadow block out all light from the hallway. His blood freezes. But he cleared this level! Before he can give himself the chance of backing down, Danny lunges forward, flying up and nailing the guy square in his jaw. The figure barely sways, and after that realization comes the sensation of his ankle being trapped in a vice-like grip.

He squirms, biting down the helpless cry that he feels rising in his throat, trying for an uppercut instead. Like a fly in a web, that limb is now caught too, and his eyes open into two deep, dark brown pools staring back at him.

Before he can protest, the stranger releases him with a soft grunt, not so much as bothering to make a move for his weapon. Danny’s fear is swiftly replaced with burning indignance. Did this asshole just decide he’s not worth the trouble?

He is airborne again, this time letting out a roar and he doesn’t care if it alerts the guards above him, this guy’s got to learn a lesson about misjudging his opponents. He connects and the mountain grunts, this time actually having to put some effort into the fight.

Danny is anything but weak. The other guys went down without a sound. But this ...this one is the real deal!

As much as Danny is thrilled at the thought of finally finding a worthy opponent, he has a job to do and Mr. Mountain is in the way.

“If you’re not going to use that gun on me,” Danny gnashes,”You could at least have the decency to lay down and die!” His muscles fire as he climbs the giant, and attempt after attempt he fails to bring him down.

“Mmmng…” At last the man appears to be wearing down. Or breaking a sweat, at least. Danny swings his arms around the towering alpha, locking them together as he holds on for dear life over his massive back. The bulging muscles make it feel like he’s climbing a rock wall. Thick, calloused fingers scramble for a solid hold as the man groans out, “f’king spider monkey…”

“Hey Luke,” another voice, more clinking of weapons. Danny missed another one???!!!  “Everything alrig--”

Danny can’t help but wonder what this fight might look like to an outsider. What feels to him like an epic battle for dominance probably looks a lot like an ant trying to climb Mt. Everest. His face burns with embarrassment, but he tries to ignore the feeling. He has a mission to finish! He cannot fail!

“A little help here?,” The giant mumbles.

Before Danny can do anything to stop it, he is being torn from his victim--this is it. Mission aborted. All because apparently, the Legendary Iron Fist cannot count. As he beats and batters against the strong yet more normal sized pair of arms, the gruff voice behind him lets out a chuckle. “Got a fiesty one here, huh? Well, I guess that solves the mystery of who knocked all the guards on their asses for us.”

The towering alpha shrugs his gear back into place just as Danny rips away from the shorter alpha. If Mr.Mountain didn’t impress him, the smaller alpha doesn’t compare. Still, he’s got that snide grin on his face that pretty much showcases what the asshole thinks of himself, and the spikes of hair sticking out atop shaved sideburns completes the package. Danny chances a glance down at the passed out guard just inches away; the men standing before him don’t share the the plain black suits and blue ties that the others wear. He clenches his fists and snarls at the shorter alpha, crouching into a stance that says he’s going to kick the man’s ass if he dares to move any further. “You--you’re not with them.”

“Ding-ding,” The shorter alpha says, mocking a game-show sound. “Look here, Lukey. We’ve got ourselves a winner. What should we do with him first?”

“Back off,” Danny barks.

The sounds of shuffling feet and radio chatter scatter on the floor above their heads.

“Fuck,” the shorter Alpha groans. “Boss ain’t going to be happy about this.”

Yet another head appears through the doorway. This man is bigger than the snide-nosed alpha, wearing matching gear like the two that now corner Danny. Danny’s head spins. Who are these guys? A part of him says to make a break for it, but the other, more curious and perhaps more reckless side, keeps his feet planted.

The third alpha tosses his head back, gesturing through the open door and back the way he came. “What the fuck are you guys doing?”

It’s Mr. Mountains turn to speak. “I heard footsteps, and--”

“Who the hell is that?”

“Who the hell are you?!” Danny spits back.

“No time.” Mr. Mountain may be the size of a Mack truck but he has the speed and grace of cheetah. Before Danny has a chance to react, he’s gathered into a pair of powerful arms and rushed into the room as a group of officers--very much awake and very pissed off--descend on the hallway.

The door closes behind all of them, locking Danny in with the smell of alpha surrounding him. He tries to hold his nose, but finds his hands are out of reach of his face. He struggles against the hold, grinding out, “Let go!”

The short alpha with the spiked hair grabs his chin, wrenching his head forward to glare into his eyes. “You wanna die, Curly Sue? By all means keep flappin’ your yap.”

“We almost there, Boss?” The third alpha talks to yet a fourth over his shoulder. From the crouched position they are in, Danny can just barely peek over the curved desktop to see a blinking computer screen and the growling, frustrated man attending it.

“Not even close.”

“They’re coming,” Mr. Mountain whispers.

The man turns, and Danny’s breath catches. He can’t pinpoint the cause, but there is something different about the man. It could be that he is a beta, because Danny instantly feels a calm washing over him, one that he has to struggle through to remind himself to be pissed. He is captured, he is in danger, he doesn’t know these guys. But the oppressive weight of the feeling holds him in place. The man is alpha--but something more than that, too. Something stronger.

“You don’t think I know that?” The strange alpha shoots a death-glare behind him before letting out a few explicatives, ripping a device from the computer tower, and shoving it into his pocket.

“Done?,” the shorter alpha asks expectantly.

“Doesn’t matter,” the strange Alpha growls. For the briefest of moments, his eyes flash down accusingly at Danny, and he wishes to god he could just disappear.  “Let’s go.”

Before Danny can even suck in a breath against the arms that press in against his ribcage, he is being carried off, to the corner of the room. The city breeze hits his face and when he looks down, he is staring at a hole sliced out of the bulletproof window and the black steel rope attached to it, stretching out across the traffic below.

He shrinks back. “H-how high up are we?”

His answer is the massive alpha extending a similar tether from a pack on his belt. Within seconds they are airborne, with the three other alphas following in succession. If Danny wasn’t about to piss his pants in fright, he’d be downright jealous of all the equipment these guys have. Whoever they are, something tells him they might be on the same side as Danny is, alphas or not. He flattens himself to the kevlar-clad chest of the huge alpha, shamelessly burying his face. “You’re alright.” The alpha’s voice is deep and soothing and for just a moment Danny allows himself to relax. Somewhere deep inside he feels like he can trust him.

But what choice does he have at this point anyway?

* * * * *

“We can’t keep him forever,” Luke murmurs, his arms folded across his chest. He feels like he’s stating the obvious, but Frank gets so wrapped up in the Mission that he needs that reminder to pull him back into reality.

“I know that,” Frank grunts. He’s just gotten off the phone with their contact, and from the look on his superior’s face the conversation didn’t go well. “We should have left him there to rot.”

Luke’s eyebrows flinch. “Frank you don’t mean that.”

The apex alpha lets out a tired sigh, sliding down into the metal chair adjacent his friend.  “No, I suppose I don’t. But we’ve never had a civilian interfere with a mission before. Ever . And I’m just supposed to assume the little punk won’t try something again if we let him loose?”

Luke shrugs. “You could ask him.”

The look Frank gives him is incredulous. Luke supposed he has a right to be pissed off at the interfering omega. The fact of the matter is, they know so little about him. And there is nothing in the rulebook that says you have to tell the truth to your captors.

Luke had been willing to let the kid go. The second they repelled off that building and out of sight, the threat of him ever being caught by Weigon’s men lessened considerably. Luke is curious, too---downright gobsmacked by the saucy little omega who’d managed to take on a full floor of guards... all by himself, presumably.

Frank had been smart to fashion the makeshift cell in the corner of the cabin. It's not much, but it affords the kid some space, if not privacy.

Rumlow is handling the kid more roughly than what Luke would think necessary; one fist buried in the ruff of his hoodie as he half-shoves, half-marches the kid into the holding cell.

If the curly-haired blond didn’t have his hands tied in front of him, he has to believe he’d be giving Rumlow some major trouble. As it is, he’s been fighting them every step of the way. Luke grins a but as he envisions the trash-talking little badger of an alpha getting his ass handed to him by the scrawny omega.

“Let me go, asshole!”, the kid snarls as the door slams shut.

Rumlow gives the keys a once-over before tossing them to Frank.

If the curly-haired blond didn’t have his hands tied in front of him, he has to believe he’d be giving Rumlow some major trouble. As it is, he’s been fighting them every step of the way. Luke grins a but as he envisions the trash-talking little badger of an alpha getting his ass handed to him by the scrawny omega.

His scent is light and sweet, like lavender and freshly baked sugar cookies. It's a welcome change from the smog of sweaty of Alpha. Luke can’t help but feel a bit concerned though, especially as he eyes the thirsty spike-haired alpha is eyeing the kid and licking his chops like he’s a chocolate-drizzled donut.

There’s not much to him, even as omegas go--he can’t be more than 5’4, 5’5, with a slight build and boney hips that jut out below his narrow waist. There’s just a peek of midriff showing under his oversized hoodie, but it’s enough to bring even the most straight-laced, disciplined alpha to their knees. Not that Luke is looking. He pretends to scratch his head as Frank approaches, hoping the motion will be enough to hide the heat that rises to his face.

The curly-haired brat jumps up from the small wooden stool--the makeshift jail’s only piece of furniture--and struts up to the bars, coming toe-to-toe with the scowling Agent. Frank is never in a mood to play, and this kid just ruined his assignment. Luke feels the slightest bit of worry for him stir his gut.

“Name,” Comes the order.

The dirty blond just out his chin and stands pin-straight, his glittering green eyes shameless and unafraid as he stares Frank down. “What makes you think I’m going to give you that?”

Frank growls, and it’s like the low rumble of an impending hurricane. Luke steps closer, eyeing his superior in silence. Frank tosses his chin as he stares the kid down.“You want outta that pen?”

The omega’s eyes dart downward for the briefest second, and he swallows shallowly.

“Then you’re going to cooperate.”

Rumlow doesn’t waste any time before swooping in like the starved vulture he is, hovering closer to the kid than Luke would like him to be. He swipes his tongue across his teeth as he thumbs his belt buckle. “We got ways of making you talk, baby doll. Best answer the man.”

“ENOUGH, Rumlow,” Frank barks. “If I’d have wanted your input I would have ordered it.”

The shorter alpha backs down with a dissatisfied grunt. Luke is grateful for Frank’s presence. There is something to be said for a leader who can reign in a rag-tag team of unruly alphas.

Sensing Frank’s patience growing thin, Luke peels off a glove and extends his hand through the bars. He doesn’t hold his breath. In fact, he doubts the kid will take it, and he doesn’t need to look around to know that his comrades are sharing the same dumb-struck look that’s currently pasted all over the omega’s face. “I’m Luke.”

The kid’s mouth drops open as they pause to study each other. Luke can’t help but feel mesmerized by the pools of storm-washed emerald, the dusting of freckles that dance across his milky skin, the perfect spirals of burnished gold that frame his face. And, oh, his scent. Luke has little doubt that this kid could so easily be his perfect brand of drug.

Finally, a gloved hand greets his fingers, and Luke can’t help but be a little disappointed that he can’t feel for himself how silky his skin really is. “Danny,” the kid murmurs. “My name’s Danny.”

Luke’s heart skips a beat. He opens his mouth to speak and finds that even if he knew what thing to say next, there's a desert surrounding his tongue.

Frank lets out a dissatisfied huff. “What were you doing in the Weigon Complex?”

Those dazzling green eyes train on Frank in a flash of fury, and within a moment the hand holding Luke’s tears away. ”None of your business!”

“Aright,” Frank grumbles under his breath as he thumbs the cell keys.

“Frank,” Luke murmurs.

Frank holds up a hand, and Luke feels that steady, calming wave of whatever the hell Frank’s Apex Alpha pheromones do. It instantly soothes him. There is no need to fight. Frank is in control; of himself, of this situation. The Omega named Danny lets out a small whimper as the scent rolls through and Frank is beside him in a moment’s time, one massive hand sweeping around the back of his head to steady him.

“It’s alright.” Frank’s voice is practically a whisper, and Danny stumbles backwards as if to escape his own numb senses. “Danny, my name is Senior Agent Frank Castle. Luke is my second-in-command. We’re from Special Services. We are trying to take Weigon down, and we need your cooperation. Okay?” Frank bends low to meet him eye-to-eye.

“Uh...hmm-hmm.” Danny nods, blinking slowly.

From behind Luke, Brock lets out an unimpressed snort. He doesn’t pay him any mind; Brock has always been jealous of Frank’s Apex status. Luke is secretly thankful that so few Alphas are born with the gift; it makes omegas and even betas incredibly docile, susceptible to persuasion. It’s great for tactics and interrogations...but Luke doesn't want to think of what a man like Brock would do with that kind of power.

Frank leads Danny to the rickety chair in the corner, one hand trailing gently down his back.

Luke his hackles bristle watching the two, an uneasy feeling resting in the pit of his stomach as Danny sits and Frank takes a knee, keeping eye contact as he holds his elbows lightly.

“Danny, is it?” Frank asks as he slips a blade between the zipties binding his wrists and cuts them.

Danny nods.

“Danny, I need you to do something for me. Just for me, alright?”

Danny's eyebrows quirk a little, as if to fight through the dense fog Frank's pheromones have made of his brain. “Okay,” he says warily.

“Tell me what you were doing at the Weigon complex. Were you looking for something?”

Danny shrugs, rubbing both wrists absentmindedly.

After a pause, Frank tries again. “Someone?”

“Weigon,” Danny murmurs.

“Danny...Who is Weigon? To you, I mean?”

Clarity enters Danny’s eyes as his expression sours, his button nose screwing up as he begins to pull away from Frank’s gentle touch. “Weigon needs to die. He took my friends. So many of them, sold into market. Gone. Some died by his hand if they fought back or they didn't fetch a price. He’s worse than scum.”

Tears begin to glitter the rims of his eyes, threatening to spill out beneath thick, wheat-colored ringlets. Luke wants so badly to hold him, to be the one with his arms around him. There is a history of hurt Jealousy--a possessiveness--boiling up from somewhere deep within as Frank’s calloused thumb draws tiny circles around Danny’s shoulder.

Before he can stop himself, or even truly knows what he is doing, he's yanking open the cell door and strutting towards the two of them. “You were there to kill him, weren't you?”

The kid can’t be more than 22, 23 years old.  Despite his small frame and short stature, he must be a force to be reckoned with. It had been all-too-easy to slip into the Complex undetected. When Frank ordered Luke to keep an eye out, he had been looking for someone much bigger. If a kid in street clothes could take out over forty of Weigon’s men without so much as getting scratched, he could certainly make quick work of one overweight businessman.

The kid looks up at him, his expression hardening as he nods. “Yeah. I was on the way to the 70th floor when---”

“When you ran into tall dark and bashful, there?” Rollins intervenes in the midst of stacking weapons.

“Something like that,” Danny mumbles, biting his bottom lip. Luke could almost swear he sees the pink of his cheeks deepen.

“Sounds like we're on the same team,” Frank says.

“Only you weren't going to kill him.” The bitterness and anguish returns to his voice. “I wanted him done away with. Gone. So he can't ever hurt anyone, ever again!”

Frank shrugs as he rises to his feet. “You'd think it'd be that easy, kiddo. It ain't. See, if Weigon’s gone, there’s a long line of thugs just waitin’ to take his place. Then the cycle repeats itself, and on and on it goes. It doesn't get better. Now, see, our contact? Our contact gave us the goods on how to get all the files for those syndicates. The names of his top guys, the locales of his shadow organizations and trafficking rings. That's what we were supposed to be doing. Then you came along.”

Danny huffs. “I’m not giving you an apology, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“Not at all.” Frank’s hands fly up in a surrendering motion, for all intents and purposes being uncharacteristically generous with the fiery omega. “Only a promise that you won’t interfere with our operations from now on.”

“And why would I agree to that?”

“Because,” Rumlow intervenes, absentmindedly rolling one of his blades between his fingers with machine precision, “if you want to watch the whole operation go up in flames, it’s best to leave it to the professionals. We appreciate your effort, sweetheart, but we could’a taken out those guards just as easily, and escaped with our data.”

“I’m not your sweetheart,” Danny hisses.

Rumlow shrugs. “Eh, give it time.”

“That’s enough,” Frank orders.

Luke’s heart is pounding, nostrils flaring. How dare that sick sack of shit so much as look sideways at the kid?! He’s never felt so incensed. In a way, he’s grateful for the row of steel bars separating them, if only for Brock’s sake. If push ever came to shove, Luke would roll him like a locomotive.

“I have people too, ya know!” Danny stands up once again, this time puffing his flat chest as far as it will go and sizing up Frank.

Frank raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, that’s right. I’m not alone in this, either. I have people that are expecting me any minute now---and if I don’t come back, they’re going to come lookin’!”

“That settles it, then.” With little warning, Frank tosses the keys Luke’s way. “You’ll be our guest for the duration.”

“Duration?” Luke squeaks. “What does that mean?”

“Length of time,” Rollins offers.

Rumlow swats him on the back of the head. “Dipshit.”

“We can't have you running around and interfering with our mission,” Frank continues, ignoring the two idiots in the background. “The second extraction attempt is going to be more involved, now that Weigon‘s going to be on high alert. Might take us a day or two to work out the kinks. In the meantime, my associate here will look after you, make sure you have everything you need.”

“You mean he’s gonna make sure I don't escape,” the blond grinds out, folding his arms across his chest.

A chuckle slips out from Frank’s pursed lips. “Tomayto,  Tomahto. “

Luke swallows nervously, glancing down at the little loop of keys in the middle of his hand. “Frank, you sure---?”

“Rollins, that means you're on mess duty tonight,” the Senior Agent states as he leaves, latching the heavy steel door behind him with a CLANG.

Luke slides a sideways glance at the fuming omega. If there is something Luke could say that would make it better, he just doesn't have the words. And if words would help, it's far too late for that now.

With a roar, the scrawny omega climbs Luke like a tree, scrambling up his torso, hands locked onto the tactical vest for a hold.

“Whoa!” Luke stumbles backward, collapsing against the iron bars at the surprising force that comes from such a small opponent. “Easy, easy!!” He grabs a fistful of Danny’s hoodie, tearing him off just as the kids takes a swing at his face. Danny hovers midair, half choked on his own sweater, arms flailing, feet kicking easily three feet off the ground. Luke only feels slightly guilty for thinking how cute he looks.

The idea, of course, is to lower him gently to the ground. Halfway down, the squirming kid slips from his hoodie, and tumbles down, landing sprawled on the chair. Underneath is a well-worn band tee that nearly comes off with it, and Danny shoves it down over his hips as he sputters angrily. “You can’t do this!”

Luke exits the pen in two quick strides, slamming the door shut on the bars and locking the fuming blond inside. “Sorry, kid...but orders are orders.”

He walks off, ignoring the string of expletives that fly at his back like arrows. He rubs a spot on his bicep where Danny got a good jab in, glancing down at the purple patch and grumbling beneath his breath, “Little spider monkey…”

* * * * *

Danny doesn’t bother lifting his head at the sound of approaching footsteps. He crosses his legs tighter and bites down on his lip. He’s had to pee for well over an hour now, but damned if he was going to ask either of the black-haired Alphas to take him there. He doesn’t trust any of them, but he’s damn near scared of those two. Thankfully, the walking mountain has returned. He holds in his arms a pile of blankets and atop them sits a small bowl, smelling faintly of something warm and spicy.

“Where have you been?,” he growls. “I need to take a piss.”

The Alpha lets out a tired sigh, swinging the cell door open for him to pass through. “Sorry,” comes the gentle reply. “I got some things for you.”

Danny tries his best to not act surprised at Luke’s gentleness. He’s never known an Alpha to take kindly to snide remarks.

The cabin is spacious and well-lit. If not for the cell in the corner, it could almost pass as an actual house. The walk to the bathroom takes them up a flight of stairs. There is a small bedroom that reeks of the same bitter smell of as the two shorter alphas, and just beyond that a bathroom no larger than a closet. Danny tugs off his gloves and stowes them in the pocket of his sweatpants and glances back at the open door, with Luke standing just outside. “You gonna shut that?”

“What do you think?” Luke retorts.

Danny glances down at the toilet and blushes. As badly as he really wants to fight him on this one, his bladder is full and screaming at him for release. “Don’t look then.” What is meant as a snap command comes out higher-pitched than he would have liked, and Danny curses himself for it. No use acting tough around these guys anyway---they can smell it all over him; his weakness, his fear.

The journey back down to his cell is uneventful for the most part. The creepy spike-haired one--what was his name, Rumlow?--has black eyes that follow his movements and he’d love nothing more than to plant his fists into that smirking face, but the tall Alpha’s presence is soothing, even if Danny’d never admit it out loud.

Luke spreads out the piles of blankets as Danny picks at the soup. It looks and tastes like a thinner version of chili, but it’s savory and hot and it calms the grumbling of his stomach. Luke drags in a large duffel, setting at the the head of the makeshift bed before stretching himself out over the sheets and tucking the bag beneath his head. Danny drops the spoon to the bowl with a “clink”. “What are you doing?”

“What’s it look like I’m doing?” Luke folds his massive hands over his stomach as he wiggles comfortably into place.

Danny’s eye twitches. “I thought you brought that in for me.”

“I did.”

Moments pass as Danny inspects the last remnants of his meal. Did they put something in it? Are they trying to drug him? He’d kick himself for being so stupid and letting his hunger drown out his common sense!

“Jesus, you’re paranoid,” Luke gruffs. It’s as if he doesn’t have to open his eyes to deduce the source of Danny’s panic. “I only have the one mattress, so we’ll have to share.”

“Never!” Danny squeals.

Luke shrugs. “Suit yourself. You got yourself into this mess, you know. If you’d promised the Boss you’d back off and let us do our job, he would have let you go.”

“Bullshit,” he grumbles in return, shoving the bowl to the side. “How do I know he’s a man of his word? Or that you’re a man of yours? How do I know you’re not IN ON IT everything?”

“You don’t,” the alpha mutters.

Danny jerks up from the rickety chair, hands balled into the tightest fists he can muster. “ARE you?”

Luke bothers to slowly open one eye, looking the Omega up and down before closing it again. “What do you think?”

Of course, Danny knows better. If they were with Weigon, they’d have killed him or left him tied up at the compound to be dealt with by Weigon himself. They wouldn’t have taken him with them, and they certainly wouldn’t have given him food or shelter or even the time of day to explain his situation. That doesn’t mean these guys are the “good guys”---they’re just a different group of militant Alphas seeking control over a bigger organization of the same. It doesn’t mean they are trustworthy. It doesn’t mean Danny should let his guard down.

“I’m not sleeping with you,” Danny murmurs, the suggestiveness in the statement making the heat rise to his cheeks. He hugs himself as he slides down to the cold cell floor, gathering his hoodie in his lap.

“Totally fine.” Luke rolls over, turning his back to the omega. In this position, the landmass of a man looks neutral, maybe even vulnerable. Danny’s eyes trace the outline of the bulging muscles of his back, softly biting his lip. The man’s scent is tame and sweet---much unlike any Alpha’s he’s ever experienced in his lifetime. Coriander, pumpkin patch, rolling ocean waves.

Danny lets out a perturbed sigh, tossing his hoodie over his shoulders and folding his hands beneath himself on the hard concrete. He screws his eyes shut---this is no time to get soft! He needs his rest, so he can wake up bright and early tomorrow and plan his escape. He angles his back to the bars, scooching as far away as possible from the prone Alpha. This is fine. Yeah. He can sleep like this. He wiggles into his final position and drifts off into a fitful sleep.

* * * * *

Luke feels the outline of a small, slender body pressed against his. It’s pitch black now except for the sliver of bright white moon casting shadows on the wall. He lets his eyes drift closed again as the form snuggles in, steadying his breathing so as to not disturb the kid. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. It’s been so long since he’s had another warm body to cuddle up with--too long. Danny shivers and buries that mess of curly hair beneath the blanket. It tickles Luke’s shoulders, even through the layers of his tactical uniform.

He waits until he is sure the boy is sleeping to roll over. As he collects him into his arms, the omega lets out a sleepy, sated moan and flattens himself to Luke’s chest. The heat from their bodies mingle together and Luke feels a contented shiver roll through him. He presses his face into the feather-soft curls and breathes in deeply, trying to keep their lower halves separated.

His base instinct knows exactly what he wants to do to the kid. Every ounce of Alpha in him is raring and ready to mate, and in that regards Luke can’t blame Danny for thinking that the “strongest gender” are nothing but a bunch of animals, cruel and selfish and unconcerned with the thoughts or desires of their “prey”.

“You’re alright now,” Luke murmurs, resting his chin on the top of Danny’s head. He keeps him held tight in the circle of his arms has once again sleep takes hold.  

Chapter Text

Danny is awakened by the sensation of something large and stiff poking him in the back. He screws up his nose as he tries to maneuver around it, but it's hard to wiggle around when you’re stuck fast between to felled tree trunks. His eyes fly open as the memories from last night come flooding back and he realizes those two trees are actually a pair of bulging arms. He jams his elbow into the giant’s rib cage, earning only a sharp grunt in reply. He whispers harshly, “ hey.”

“Mmmnh?”

“Let...get off.” He pathetically flaps one arm that has long fallen asleep, having been trapped beneath the sleeping alpha.

Luke rolls over with a happy grumble. The sheer size of him blocks out the morning light that’s streaming in from the dusty window outside the cell. For just a moment Danny’s life flashes before his eyes as Luke could tighter around him, the protrusion under the blankets now stabbing him mercilessly in the side. He lets out a desperate squeal.

Much like stuffing a pillow back into place, Luke wedges Danny’s slight chest beneath his head, smacking his lips sleepily as he nuzzles Danny’s neck. He lifts himself off Danny long enough for Danny to suck in a breath and gain some much-needed blanket space. He wads up the extra material and shoves it between them, his face beet-red.

“That's just so wrong,” he murmurs, trying in vain to shift away from the growing bulge.

“Erm. Sorry.” The Alpha finally gets the hint, backing his lower half up while somehow managing to keep Danny tightly sandwiched between the blankets and his upper half.  

Feeling a twinge of guilt, Danny snuggles in further, content to not make a big further deal of it. Besides, it's not like it was intentional. The overly large alpha is as hot as a furnace and smells like a smouldering campfire in a dew-covered apple orchard. Even here, behind actual iron bars, Danny feels inexplicably, perfectly...safe.

He’s just about to drift off to sleep when the sound of approaching boots makes him jerk upright.

Staring down at him with that unnerving smirk and those glittering black eyes, the short Alpha called Rumlow snickers. “Morning, Goldilocks.” His creepy stare drifts to the man behind him. “Wow, Cage. You move in quick don't ya.”

A low growl rumbles up from Luke’s chest. “ Can it, Brock. Don't you have places to be?”

Rumlow shakes his head. “Oh, not I.” He bites a chunk off of a protein bar, shoving it into one side of his face as he extrapolates, “S’your turn to go on a field trip. Rollins n me are supposed to stay here and look after Little Bo Peep. Boss’ orders.”

“Bullshit,” Luke snarls, standing to his feet.

Runlow shrugs. “Ask 'im yourself.”

Luke flips off the covers and Brock fains disappointment when he sees the two are still fully dressed. If Danny wanted to say something snide back at him, it's outweighed by the curiosity he feels building as Luke tears the door open and snaps the lock shut on the bars. He gives Danny an unreadable look before dashing down the hall and out of sight.

Rumlow chews loudly, maintaining that disgusting smirk of his as he smacks his food. “Just gonna be you, me and my dipshit partner, Princess.”

Danny wants to sink away into the blankets until he disappears.

* * * * *

“Wanna tell me what the hell this is about?!” Luke slams open the door to the furthest bedroom. His superior stands calmly over his bed, already suited up and loading extra clips into his vest.

“Corprie notified me at 0600. We're to meet her at the rendezvous point to receive our next briefing.”

Luke surges forward, unabated as he grasps Frank's bicep and spins him around with little effort. Frank's eyes flash momentarily and he stares down at the clenched fist wrinkling his tactical shirt. “That's not what I mean and you know it.” Reluctantly, he releases him, retreating to the other end of the room, hands on his back pockets.

“You need to have more faith in your teammates,” Frank murmurs.

“More faith---? Frank, are you kidding me?! You know how...how goddamn thirsty Brock gets. He’ll try something with the kid. He cannot be trusted. Not around an omega especially!”

“Then have more faith in my ability as your Commander.” The threatening inflection in his voice belies his calm exterior. “I saw you two, you know.”

Luke’s face twinges incredulously. “Saw what? It's not like we have blankets to spare--”

“Uh huh.”

“Frank, the kid was cold and---”

“Uh huh.”

Luke runs a hand down his bald head, biting his tongue and sucking in deep, slow breaths.

“You're my Second,” Frank murmurs, his tone softening. “That little blond brat in there fucked up our Mission. Now, I have go to play Damage Control while Weigon gets more time to secure his most recent shipments. I need your head in the game, Luke. Understand?”

“So you're going to sacrifice some innocent just because you think I broke conduct?”

Frank fastens down his ballistic vest, eyeing Luke with think veiled disapproval. “Don't get all dramatic about it, Cage. You still have the key. They kid’ll be fine. He’ll be safe behind bars until we get back. Now get suited up. We leave in 5 minutes.”

Luke flexes his fists at his side and makes a meal of his inner cheek. Even the calm suppression of Frank’s pheromones can't fully numb the rage that's building inside. If not for the fact that Frank is Frank---his superior, his longtime friend, a fellow agent that he respects and trusts---he might have laid him flat by now.

Frank’s eyes narrow. “Do we have a problem?”

After a long pause, Luke murmurs, “No.” He spins on his heel, digging into his pocket for the cell key. The kid probably needs to use the bathroom, then Luke will get him something to eat and make sure the lock is secured and double-check the integrity of the bars. He doesn't trust Rumlow as far as he can throw him. Which, Luke thinks, he might just end up doing if he so much as looks at Danny sideways.

“Hey,” Frank says just before Luke steps outside the door. Luke stops, but doesn't turn around. “After this Mission, I'm sending you on leave. It's been years since you’ve had so much as a day off. You've more than earned it in my book. Take a week. Hell, take two. Find a couple’a pretty omegas to knot.” Thinking he's funny, Frank adds, “Just don't come back a baby-daddy.”

“You think that's what this is about?” Luke shakes his head, biting the inside of his lip so hard it bleeds. “Man, all due respect, you don't know shit.”

“Explain it to me then,” Frank calls back as Luke pounds off.

There is no use in it. Frank may be an Apex, but when it comes to the concept of romance he’s dumber than a box of rocks. Though Luke supposes it’s easy to forget real, physical attraction when that choice has been ripped from you. While the Agency’s Operatives are encouraged to remain single, it's not exactly a rule any of them follow. Luke has had a few mates---though nothing really permanent or serious. And certainly nothing that felt even close to what he's feeling now.

He's heard the stories of finding “the one”--- an ideal that up until now Luke himself has found whimsical and unlikely at best. They’d all claimed it was like this supernatural pull-- this unmistakeable, undeniable bond linking them with the other person. Luke’s been the biggest and tallest of any crowd he’s ever been in since before he can remember. He's been in firefights and police raids and even fought off a dictator's small army once when they were dispatched overseas--- but in all that time, he's never been afraid. Not like he is now, at the thought of leaving the blond-haired, emerald-eyed siren to the likes of a lowlife like Brock Rumlow. Maybe Frank is right. Maybe Luke is losing his focus. None of that even seems to matter right now, only him. Only Danny.

Danny . Luke commits that name to his heart, closing his eyes and sending it up like the holiest of prayers. Danny the omega. Danny the fighter. Danny with the freckle-kissed skin.

His Danny.

He feels as if he's being chaperoned. He doesn't say much when he lets Danny out to use the bathroom, his superior’s eyes glued to Luke’s back, silently judging his every move. Danny must sense the tension, because he doesn't make any snide remark or attempt to joke around. After he’s done--maybe out of sheer curiosity--he allows Luke to March him back down again and lock him in.  With Frank following close behind, Luke studies the concerned-looking kid. Danny follows Luke’s movements, scaling the bars with both fists, almost as if he could get closer to him. “Wh-what’s going on?”, He mutters, the rising panic in his voice thinly veiled behind a set jaw.

“Gotta head out for a bit,” Luke states matter-of-factly, trying to keep his tone as level as possible. The green eyes stare back at him, drilling straight into his soul and Luke’s insides churn.

“Out?”

“We’re going to rendezvous with our conta--” A corrective grunt from his eagle-eyed Superior cuts his explanation short. Luke tries a tight-lipped smile as he slips his gloves on. “I’ll be back in less than three hours,” he presses, praying that it will be enough. He tries to suppress the gnawing guilt, the realization that he's going back on his promise to protect him still fresh in his mind.

Danny’s eyes flash and within an instant, he switches. That soft demeanor from the morning’s unexpected, wonderful snuggle is shoved beneath a callus, cocky sneer. He throws his chin Frank’s way, drifting away from Luke as he addresses him. “I’m getting out of here, you know. With or without your help. Way I see it you have two choices, either you let me go of your own volition or I’ll tear this cabin down board by board. You can’t keep me here forever.”

The threats fall on deaf ears. Frank lets out a nonchalant sniff and produces the keys to the Humvee.

Rumlow lurks around the front door as they exit, a toothpick jammed in his mouth as he casually swings the door open for the two. “Safe travels, guys. Don't worry about Shirley Temple over there.” He adds with a grin, “Jack n me will take real good care of her.”

It takes everything within Luke’s power to refrain from relocating Brock’s head to his asshole in that moment. He bites down on the well-worn spot in his mouth and shoves past him, knocking the much shorter Alpha into the doorframe.

“Hey--!” Rumlow cries, his arms flying up on protest.

“Easy, Cage” Frank grumbles. “He knows what he gets if he breaks protocol.”

“Now boss,” Rumlow chuckles, ignoring the warning glare Luke is firing at him. “Don't threaten me with a good time.”

“Let's just get this done,” Luke snaps, sweeping the large duffel off the porch as they make their way to the vehicle.

The sooner they leave, the sooner they’ll get back.

* * * * *

Brock’s attempt at getting off this morning was pathetic at best. He’d wrapped his fist around his throbbing shaft and pumped away, trying to mimic the merciless tightness of an omega in heat. He’d watched Luke and his fresh new plaything snuggling in the pen, blissfully unaware of the lewd fantasy playing out in Brock’s head as he fruitlessly stroked his cock.

Curly Sue is a virgin. Brock knows it, just as any red-blooded, knot-bearing alpha within a five Mile radius knows it. His scent is sweet and light like spiced candy and it sets fire to Brock’s aching, hungry dick.

He pretty much knew it'd be impossible to empty his balls after smelling such fresh meat--- his knot faught him every step of the way and ultimately succeeded in its goal to punish him. He couldn't push himself over that edge---not without sealing himself inside a squirming, panting omega begging to be bred. With a string of curses, he slapped his cock as if to beat it into submission before surrendering to his body’s self-punishment and sitting his blue balls on a bag of ice.

He knows it's mean certain death--- Agent Castle rules with an iron fist and doesn't take exception with those that chose not to follow his word to the letter---but he can't peel his eyes off the sulking blond in the corner.

Brock runs his tongue across his lips and approaches him.

Those glittering green eyes follow his every move, the kid stiffening up as Rumlow ribs his gloved fingers out over the bars. “You really are a pretty thing, ain’t ya?”

The Omega turns his head away with a huff, throwing that clean, virginal scent up into the air along with a hint of strawberry shampoo. He folds his arms across his chest, and Brock imagines what he must look like without the baggy clothes to hide his slinky physique.

He makes himself at home on a stack of crates, producing a modest pocket knife from his boot and sharpening it with the edge of his belt . “Not surprised Luke took to ya’. He'll, I can't blame him. Just can't help but wonder, though, why him?” He sniffs and sneers, searching out a hint of green beneath that wheat-colored mop. “What’s a guy like him got that I don't?”

Now it’s Blondie’s turn to snicker as his back goes pin-straight. He knows he wants to say something. Brock has known plenty of little omegas like this one, cocky and snide, carrying around an air of superiority and wrapping it around themselves like a security blanket, as if any Alpha worth his salt can't see right through it.

“Don’t you have something better to do?,” Goldielocks finally sneers.

A crude leer crawls it's way across Brock’s face. “Just you, sweet pea.”

“Ugh,” he groans, his eyes rolling back to his brain as he looks away again.

A heavy groan from the other side of the room diverts Brock's attention. It seems Rollins has found his way back in from outside as he lugs an oversized ammo crate towards the open doorway. “NNNG. Hey Rum, little help here?”

Brock's eyes narrow. He shoulda’ locked him out while he had the chance. “I'm busy,” he shoots back. Even so, he stows the knife and drags himself up off his haunches. “Maybe the kid can do it,” he taunts, picking up the end nearest him and dragging it on through. “MMMMrrrgh!...after all, he took out those guards easy enough.”

“I take out most alphas easy enough,” comes the retort from behind the bars. Rumlow grins. Oh, he’s making this game too easy, just taking the bait like that.

Rollins doesn't share his enthusiasm. Instead, he furls his eyebrows, slowly shaking his head. Rollins is a different breed---the kind that waits at the end of the buffet line while everyone else takes what they damn well want. Well, Rumlow doesn't play like that. It hasn't been easy being a head shorter than pretty much every other alpha and even some betas. He’s had to claw his way to the top--and he’s not about to back down.

“Ya know, I was wonderin’ about that.” Rumlow drops the case and it lands with a THUD. He ignores the surprised yelp that comes from his buddy and strolls back over. “How did you manage to take all’a Weigon’s guards out, just-like-that? Seems a little snowflake like you should have trouble liftin’ his own weight let alone about three dozen guys five times his size.”

Little Debbie is on his feet now, both hands clenched tightly around the bars. Brock grins.

Luke may not have plugged the scrawny omega’s hole last night, but his scent lingers around him like a cloud. Brock’s nose coils immediately at the smell, the jealous burn of a rival Alpha already claiming his territory.

“You talk a lot of shit, Pint-size,” the omega spits. This close and personal, Brock can see that those dazzling green eyes have little gold flecks in them.

He pretends the comment doesn't scald his ego and dramatically sniffs the air. “You smell that, Rollins? That’s the scent of a sopping-wet boy pussy, begging to be plowed.”

Those green eyes flash and a red hue dances across the kid’s freckles, telling Rumlow that the kid knows he knows he’s right. Danny edges backward slightly, his eyes falling in embarrassment. “That’s...it’s not----”

Brock sees the fresh tear he’s made in the kid’s resolve and pounces. Before Danny moves away from the bars, Brock grabs him with both fists, dragging him back into them. He shoves his nose in, taking a deep drag of those strawberry-scented locks as the kid lets out a startled yelp.

Rumlow’s taken plenty of omegas before. Some haven't been all that willing. Some belonged to other Alphas. In the end, those details were inconsequential. Their bodies had been created for one purpose skone, a purpose they’d all ended up fulfilling on the end of Rumlow’s knot. It just goes to show, nature  really be helped. You push hard enough and even concrete cracks. “Fuck baby, you smell better than velvet feels,” he groans into the kid’s ear, flicking his tongue out for a quick taste as the kid spins around inside his hoodie.

“Fuck you!”

“Brock,” Rollins murmurs in warning. Rumlow just ignores him. He can bare his teeth all he wants but that big ox doesn't have the balls to stand up to him.

“That’s right baby cakes.” Brock’s dick is already tenting his tactical pants, visions of bending that smooth little ass over and plowing deep into him causing him to slide around in his boxers. “It’s better when you fight. It feels so much sweeter that way. Look, your body already has another thing in mind. It knows a real alpha is nearby, ready to split you in two.”

“Bastard!” With the sound of shredding fabric, Danny launches himself backwards, the thick hoodie falling in scraps to the floor. He stands panting (in rage more than from any actual.effort he had to put in, Brock assumes), fists clenched as he stares him down.

Turns out, the freckles don't end at his cheeks. They are splashed across his naked shoulders, down the divot between those smooth pectorals, and few above his navel. On his chest, emblazoned in a slightly lighter color, is the form of a dragon in flight. It's as if a master painter painstakingly every inch of milk-white canvas. Brock’s jaw drops. “DAMN.”

Danny clutches himself, looking sideways as if he should be ashamed of such a masterpiece. “It’s a birthmark…”

“To think that all this time, you were hiding *that* under an old hoodie…” Rumlow muses.

“Rum,” comes a grumble from behind him. Fucking Rollins. “Why not leave the kid be, huh? We’ve still got gear to set up, and the Boss’ll be back before you know it.”

Rumlow doesn't bother even pretending to listen to him. For the life of him, he cannot figure out what's wrong with that idiot. Surely he can smell the baby-sweet fragrance of unbred omega. And even if he couldn't, the fucker sure as hell ain't blind. Did the bared, bespeckled flesh not make his cock stand at attention, the knot already throbbing, commanding to be released into that aching virgin hole?

Rumlow paws the front of his pants, biting down on his bottom lip as he stares the kid down. “C’mon sugar. You telling me you don't want none of this? How can you refuse what you ain't even tried?”

The omega drops his shy demeanor, one eyebrow rising as he tilts his head Brock”s way.

Therrrrre it is, Rumlow purrs inwardly. Maybe it’s curiosity. Or maybe he’s just not as innocent as he’s been putting on. Either way, his body is finally responding the way God intended, and Uncle Rumlow’s here to take this spoiled little brat to Church.

“You...you like me?” Blondie’s hand disappears shyly into his hair and suddenly Brock’s dick is as wet as a boat in a windstorm.

“Like you?,” he purrs in reply, slinking ever-closer. If only that asshole had left him the keys. If only he could get his hands around that slight waist, seal his lips over that velveteen mouth. “Baby-boy I'm obsessed.”

He can smell the boy’s arousal, too. He imagines the slick protruding from his asscheeks, can practically taste the juice. His mouth waters. He nuzzles the steel bar like nuzzling a stiff, seeping omega cock, his tongue flicking out so he can demonstrate what he could do for the unspoiled omega, what he yearns to do. What he needs to do.

Like a mirage in the desert, two slender, pale hands break through the haze, drifting through the bars to wrap themselves around Rumlow’s head, intricate fingers weaving their way through the thick spikes, tugging experimentally.

Those green eyes never lose their target, hungry and mercurial and blazingly deep. Rumlow gives a happy groan as one after the other, the pair of hands close into fists and pull, sending goosebumps skittering down his spine.

Rumlow angles his head in, nostrils flaring,  yearning for a taste of those smooth pink lips. “Cmere, baby. Lemme show you. Just a bit clo---”

In a nanosecond, he tastes metal and blood as his face is brought forward into the bars, stars exploding with a resounding CRACK !!!

Red splatters the air as he wrenches backwards, howling as his hands fly up over the broken bridge of his nose.

“Piece-of-shit, lowlife fucking rapist! ” Danny hisses through the bars.

Rumlow sees red. He slams back against them with a predatory growl, startling the little curly-haired blond who falters back just out of reach. He swipes the empty air sightlessly with one coiled claw while holding his face together with the other. “Omega bitch !” Brock roars back. “I oughta put a bullet in that pretty, brainless head a’yers for that!”

“I think it improves the view,” he murmurs, his tone a little diminished. The kids gone back to hugging his bare shoulders and staring into the middle distance.

“Those bars ain't gonna protect you forever princess.”---Rumlow can't stop himself from getting one last dig in before he goes in search of the med pack--- “And I'm gonna be right here on the other side, waitin’.”

“Waiting for what?” Luke asks from the open doorway, duffel in-hand.

* * * * *

Danny can't help but feel satisfied as the bully Alpha, his face smeared with blood, staggers away from the bars. Any effort to hide what just happened is going to be impossible---and it's clear by the look on Luke’s face that he's already put two and two together.

Danny's stomach twists for the slightest second as the enormous Alpha closes in. It's replaced with relief and a bit of poetic justice when Luke changes course, grabbing the little asshole Alpha by the collar with two massive fists, his dark eyes burning into Rumlow’s. “The FUCK did you do?!”

“Luke,” Frank growls, the only man in the room daring enough to place a hand on his shoulder. “It’s clear he's learned his lesson.”

“Bullshit,” Luke spits, but he drops the stammering idiot anyway. Rumlow lands with a heavy thud.

“Your lil’ bitch packs a mean punch.” Rumlow drags himself up from the ground, his face and neck now thoroughly soaked in his own blood and seeping into his uniform. “If I ever get my hands on that scrawny neck I'll---”

“ENOUGH!” Frank bellows. “Get yourself cleaned up and report to my office, BOTH of you.”

If Luke has the intention to heed his superior's command, he does nothing to show it. Danny feels that familiar fluttering in his gut and be staggers back, glancing away as he feels Luke's eyes examine every exposed part of him. Luke’s breath hitches when he falls on Danny’s chest and the faint outline of his dragon-shaped birthmark. Danny folds his arms self-consciously. “Are...are you okay?” Luke asks, his concern obviously distracted by the sight of his naked flesh.

“M’fine,” Danny replies almost too quickly. He glances longingly at his hoodie, laying discarded just feet from his iron prison.

“Oh.” Luke takes the hint and passes it through the bars to him, his gaze still tightly glued to Danny as he gratefully crawls back into the warmth and safety of his hoodie.

“LUKE,” Frank snaps from the hallway to his office.

The towering Alpha hesitates, his mouth parted as if he wants to say something, anything, before finally choosing silence and turning to stalk down the hall towards his boss.

The meeting is short. With his ear pressed between two bars, Danny can only hear the angry muffling of Frank ripping someone a new asshole--Rumlow’s, he guesses--and the vague, half-assed excuses that follow. Danny can't help but swell a little with pride at the situation: three immovable,  impenetrable Alphas sent scurrying into Damage-Control Mode by a “mere” Omega.

Moments after the muffled arguing stops, Luke reappears looking a bit worse for wear. Danny ribs his fingers along the bars as he follows Luke’s movements, searching his distant gaze for answers. “What...what did he say?”

Luke doesn't reply right away. He just continues his dejected, slow walk towards the cell where he produces the keys and slowly unlocks the door. He lets the gate groan open, stepping aside and leaving the path to freedom dangling in between. “Boss says you’re free to go.”

Danny’s brain is thrown quickly into reverse. He stands there, eyelashes fluttering. “What?”

Luke’s usually passive expression hardens, refusing to meet Danny’s gaze. “Do you need a written invitation or something?”

Danny frowns. What could this all be about? At first the agents declared him a danger to their all-important “mission”, now suddenly they're tossing him aside like some pile of trash?”

“I...I don't know the way back,” he states plainly.

As an impatient huff is dragged from him, the Alpha scratches his bald head. “Kay, fine. I'll take you.”

Though Luke seems none too pleased about it, something about the prospect of being escorted back sets Danny’s mind at ease, particularly because it is this man who will be joining him.

As Luke pawns a set of keys from amongst the stash of tactical jackets, the Apex Alpha comes out of hiding. Frank is an absolute mountain of a man, and though he's still missing a few inches on Luke, the deep-set scowl on his face makes Danny shiver. He instinctively shrinks back, longing suddenly for the safety of the cage, despite the pheromones that beckon him to be still and not to fear. Frank's eyes burn into Danny's as his fist wraps all the way around Danny's arm, yanking him forward. Danny bites off a startled cry. “Let's be clear about what is going to happen,” comes the guttural rumble from somewhere deep within the Alpha's chest. “My second is going to escort you back to... wherever you came from. He is going to ensure your safety before reporting back, and you are going to stay wherever he puts you until further notice. Is that clear.”

Danny's eyebrows raise hopefully. “You mean, he'll be coming back?” The words are out before he realizes how desperate he sounds.

The alpha named Rumlow, who hasn't stopped glaring at him since he'd wandered back into the room, snickers dryly.

Frank looks more proturbed than anything. He releases Danny with a slight push, his attentions drifting to Luke. “You've got 18 hours. Make sure he stays put.”

Luke nods and tosses a glance back at the short blonde, then towards the vehicle that waits outside. Danny wordlessly follows.

“Hate to see ya go,” Rumlow tisks as Danny passes by just inches from him, his foot jutting out dangerously close to his path. “Love to watch ya leave.”

Frank lets out a corrective grunt and gives his subordinate a resounding “THWACK” across the head. As Rumlow yowls in pain, Danny allows himself to grin as he is lead to the big black SUV in the driveway.

Danny knows it's a big risk to let on the whereabouts of his hideout. He's sworn off alphas for years. They are an unpredictable, predatory breed that take without asking and don't think twice about who lives with the consequences. Yet Luke is the first alpha he's met who doesn't seem to fit the stereotype. Danny supposes he should feel nervous-riding alone with a strange Alpha, particularly the same one who’se been his captor for the better part of a day. But Danny doesn't feel any of the same apprehensions that he has with all the others. In fact, sitting here in the complete silence as the car rolls down the road, Luke's pleasant scent coiling around Danny's nose, it's exactly the opposite.

As he puts his feet up on the dash, Luke murmurs, “So how do you know about Weigon anyway?”

Danny scoffs. “How couldn't I know about Weigon? He and his pack of scientists have made it their life's work to make life a living hell for Omegas. They take anyone they can for their little experiments. I've lost more friends than I care to think about.”

Luke chews on the inside of his lip for a bit, as if he wants to say more. Finally, he simply murmurs, “Im sorry. I didn't know.”

“Yeah, we get that alot.”

“Who is we?”

Danny points down a side street that seemingly leads to nowhere. “In here,” he murmurs. Why tell Luke when he can show him?

Luke gives him a quizzical side-eye. Danny offers a reassuring (if mischevious) smile.

It was five years prior when Danny found the basement of the  dilapidated department store. It was dingy, dirty and smelled like mold but the entrances were nearly invisible to the naked eye which made it the perfect place for his hideout.

As he expects, Luke can barely fit his bulk in the crevasse. He squeezes through to the other side as Danny leads him, his hand warmly inside Luke's.

What once was a disheveled wasteland is now booming with activity. This is the Nerv center for the Forgotten Ones, the place Danny calls home.

The others are none too happy to see an Alpha encroaching on their territory. “Don't pay attention to them,” Danny offers when he notices Luke's obvious discomfort. “Let's just say your kind are rare around here.”

“My kind?,” Luke huffs.

Danny of course has no intention to stay put. He's going to be back on the road and breathing down Weigon's neck as soon as he is out of sight. For obvious reasons, he's got no intentions of telling Luke that.

“You sure you're going to be alright?,” Luke murmurs, so quietly Danny almost doesn't hear it.

The thought of an alpha--or anyone for that matter--actually caring about him makes Danny blush a little. “I could ask you the same thing.”

They are safe in a dark corner of the compound, away from prying eyes. Luke's mouth drops open but no sound follows, his eyes searching Danny's with a coy, uncertain glimmer.

“Agent Cage,” Danny asks teasingly. “If you've got something to say...I'm all ears.”

What feels like entire eons pass before Luke drops his shoulders, spinning on one heel as all the air escapes his lungs. “I’d better get back. You take care of yourself.”

“H-hey…” Danny swallows the lump in his throat and dares to tug at Luke's coat sleeve, pulling him back around with surprisingly little effort. In an instant, he has a seven foot Alpha flattening him against the smooth brick. He gasps, his parted lips covered with Luke's warm, full mouth. Danny doesn't hesitate in return, instead reaching up to further the kiss as the huge man groans and two trunk-like arms wrap around him to crush their chests together.

He growls possessively, lips trailing down to Danny's clavicle and lapping at the tastes there.

Danny's never felt like this before. He supposes he should feel scared, or at least concerned. After all, Alphas are dangerous and untrustworthy and unpredictable. But this Alpha--the one melting against him like butter on a frying pan-- defies all those descriptors. His massive hand comes up to gently cup Danny's cheek, angling him into the kiss, leaving Danny's body practically singing at the touch. Danny steadies himself against the armored plane of Luke's chest, reaching upward on the tips of his toes as his hand descends between the Kevlar straps.

As soon as it started, it's over. Luke pulls away instantaneously and Danny has to hold himself up against the wall to keep from collapsing forward. His head spinning, he reaches for the Alpha and misses. “What? Wait…”

“S-sorry,” Luke manages, husky with lust.

For a moment, Danny considers begging him to stay, even though he knows it won't do either or them any good. He swallows sharply, shoving his hands into his pockets and trying desperately not to look like a kicked puppy.

“I gotta...I gotta get back.” As if to drive home his point, Luke produces the keys from his pocket. His eyes still burn intently into Danny's, as if it's taking everything he has to leave.

“Stay safe for me, alright?,” Danny blurts out before he can consider how wierd those words sound coming out of his mouth.

Luke chuckles softly. “I was about to say the same.”

Something akin to despair gnaws at Danny’'s gut as he watches him leave. It's as if this strange sensation---this metaphysical, irritating, impossible connection is rerouting all the wires in his brain. He knows he shouldn't trust Luke. That he is just another in a long line of cold-hearted, blank-minded abusers. But something greater still is screaming at him that he knows that's just not right. But how could he be so sure about someone he's known for, like, five minutes?

He shrugs it off as Luke disappears through the nearly nonexistent doorway, spinning on his heel and crossing the wide expanse, back into the bustle of the Nerv center. If Frank's team is as predictable as Danny suspects (and why wouldn't they be?) there's very little time.

“Where have you been? And what's up with the Alpha?” One of his members asks. Danny pays no mind, just flicks open the screen and pulls up the location of the Weigon building. He knows Weigon's men are going to be on high alert, so he's going to have to play it cool. If Frank honestly thinks Danny's just going to sit there and twiddle his thumbs while his Alph----er---Luke runs headlong into danger.

“Wait,” the operative says with a jab to Danny's ribs. “You're not seriously thinking about going back out there, are you?”

“Kinda have no choice at this stage in the game,” Danny offers dryly. “We've got to try and get as many victims out as we can before…” Before Frank's team turns shit sideways , he finishes in his head. If things go bad and Weigon's compound is destroyed there may be no way of getting the captive Omegas back.

A sudden blast rocks the building, sending them both into the console. Among the cries and falling rubble, Danny shouts, “Wh--what was that!?”

Another operative jogs up, himself looking pretty worse for wear, black clothes covered in spot. “Danny, sir, they're here. They---”

Danny's eyes flash open wide as blast after blast resounds, followed by mechanical hissing as smoke fills the room. “They? They who?!,” he coughs out, trying his best to shield his subordinate under the crook of his arm.

Through the clouds tear gas, the overwhelming stench of Alpha fills the room.

The explosions have stopped but the room is still spinning as Danny orders the agent down, pushing him into the safety of the metal desk and rounding the corner as armed men flood in.

He bares his fists, poised for a fight as yet another wave of dizziness hits him. Through the soup the fog is making of his mind, a voice he's never heard growls, “There you are you little shit.”

Danny swings too wide and misses as the Alpha takes a step back. He falls to his knees in front of the stranger, landing in a pile of the debris that was his hideout.

The man snickers and bends down, getting face-to-face with him. He grabs a fistful of thick blonde hair and Yanks him upwards as Danny twists in pain.

“See this?,” He grinds out, gesturing to his blackened, bloodied left eye. “You gave my boys n' I a run for our money the other night. I came to return the favor.”

Knowing he'd certainly miss if he tried to give him a matching set, Danny drops his head, settling for a vehement “Go fuck yourself” instead.

Seconds later, the whole world fades to black.